by James Kelman
Ye’ve nothing more to add?
No really.
Nothing at all?
Well like eh I mind once banging my head off a lamppost and the Leg went into knots. I think that was the Saturday morning. Ye see cause it was like a joke to him, me banging my head on the lamppost cause I was staggering; cause it’s him with the bad leg but there ye are it was me doing the staggering, so I mean I mind that. Plus this lassie singing a Patsy Cline number, some karaoke or something – maybe it wasnay a karaoke, maybe she was in a band, I cannay mind, except she was bloody good man a rare chanter. I think it was Crazy she sang, but maybe it wasnay. Some of these karaoke turns they’re that good ye dont know if they’re professionals just out for the practice.
Sammy ye’re a cheeky bastard.
I’m no meaning to be, I’m just telling ye the way it comes. Sammy sniffed, raised the bracelets, rubbed at the side of his nose with the knuckle of his left hand.
Anything else?
I think on the Saturday night somewhere there was a guy Stewart, Stewart Mure, he drinks in Glancy’s. I seem to mind seeing him and his wife. He’s a good chanter as well, he does Beatles’ numbers and Otis Redding, that kind of 6o’s stuff. He’s good but.
Anything else?
Eh… Sammy frowned. He shook his head, relaxed his shoulders. It’s just I’m getting stiff mate sorry, sitting too long on the one spot. I’m getting quite a lot of pain the now. It isnay just the eyes; my ears as well, plus the ribs. That’s how I went to the doctor this morning
ya fucking blawhard bastards ye want to see cheeky I’ll fucking show ye cheeky
Sammy sniffed. So he could give me a check-up. I just want to know I’m okay, a medical opinion and all that.
…
I’d love a fag but, that would be good.
Ah ye’re such a hard man Sammy.
I’m no trying to be. It’s just yez didnay give me enough time to lift my tobacco; I was just out the bath.
He was lying awake. Another guy was in the cell with him. He made nay attempt to talk. No that Sammy minded. He wasnay in the mood for wee stories-from-the-police-courts. Fuck me but he felt auld. Too auld for this carry on. The last thing he needed was another stretch. He wouldnay be able to handle it. That was the truth.
Naw it fucking wasnay; ye do yer crime ye take yer time. All in all he had done eleven years. They rolled off the tongue. What does it sound like.
It’s a life. It gets transformed into part of yer own. It can do anyway, like it did with Helen. She was a hell of a woman for taking on yer problems, and then they became hers. Your time was her time. But it wasnay fucking her time at all; she had nay right to do that. She got depressed. Nay wonder she got depressed. But we all get fucking depressed. And he wasnay fucking keeping her man, if she wanted to go, know what I’m talking about, fuck off.
Okay ye get angry at things. And there’s nay need to. Just sometimes ye wished
Ye wished!
Naw but ye think of what ye’re reduced to. It’s like a nightmare. Each time ye wake up it’s at a new stage.
But it couldnay get worse than this. He was really fuckt now. This was the dregs; he was at it. He had fucking reached it now man the fucking dregs man the pits, the fucking black fucking limboland, purgatory; that’s what it was like, purgatory, where all ye can do is think. Think. That’s all ye can do. Ye just fucking think about what ye’ve done and what ye’ve no fucking done; ye cannay look at nothing ye cannay see nothing it’s just a total fucking disaster area, yer mind, yer fucking memories, a disaster area. Ye wonder about these things. How come it happened to you and nay other cunt? He wasnay ordinary, that’s the thing man, Sammy, he wasnay ordinary, cause if he was fucking ordinary it wouldnay be fucking happening. That’s how ye’ve got to look at yer life, what ye did that made ye different. And it’s all fucking bastard fucking flukes man fucking coincidences. Even going blind. Although it didnay just HAPPEN I mean it didnay just HAPPEN; fucking spontaneous, it wasnay spontaneous, it was these bastard sodjers, it was them, stupit fucking fuckpig bastards.
Ye think about it but! Everything had went wrong! His whole fucking life! Right from the kickoff! It all went fucking wrong! Even the most stupitest things: they went wrong too! Ye felt like asking some cunt. How does it all work? How did it happen to me and no to him! him ower there, how come it didnay happen to him; that cunt, him ower there.
Ye just
The one thing he had going for him was her. Her. That was the one thing. She was it man. See when ye come to think about it, she was it, she was fucking it. There was nothing else man. Sammy had fuck all! Jesus christ. That was the fucking strength of that. He was nothing. He was fuck all. He had hung on and hung on. That was it. He had hung on and he had hung on too long. And she had got fucking sick of it. If she hadnay went last week it was next week. And ye couldnay fucking blame her man know what I mean like christ almighty she had probably met some young cunt, somebody that went to the pub, a customer; some smarmy bastard, he had probably got off with her. And they fuckt off the gether. That was the fucking story. Just as well she had went afore this, afore this fucking shit man this fucking blind shit, fucking blind blind blind fucking blind man blind a fucking blind bastard, a walking fucking
a walking fucking
fuck knows what.
The other guy farted again. This is what he was doing. Farting in his sleep.
Sammy was gony have to think, he was gony have to think. What had that cunt Charlie been up to? Fucking hell. Ye wonder about him man at his age still fucking throwing bombs ye have to wonder. Forty years auld for christ sake. It’s no even as if they were asking much, just for him to say he had met him, it wouldnay be much more than that, just saying he had met him. Wanting to confirm some fucking bullshit.
The Leg had been blabbing.
No necessarily. Cause he didnay know fuck all. He was a dumpling as far as that was concerned; politics. He thought he knew but he didnay. Charlie was a stranger to him. A stranger to Sammy as well but that was the problem.
Naw it wasnay. That wasnay the problem. There wasnay a problem. There wasnay a problem at all.
That was what the fucking problem was! Know what I’m talking about! That was what the fucking problem fucking was. Jesus christ.
Sammy smiled.
Fuck it but he was tired, he was just bloody tired; knackered and drained, knackered and drained; nay energy; nay fuck all; he just wanted to sleep, to sleep and then wake up; refreshed and fucking enerfuckinggetic, enerfucking-genetised. Mind you that was something about this being blind; how ye were so knackered all the time, it was cause ye were using so much fucking muscle power in every other direction, the compensation process, all this groping about ye were doing and fucking knocking fuck out yerself off cupboards and doors and fucking lampposts man ye were fuckt, nay wonder ye needed to sleep all the time.
Helen would get him out of trouble. Where the fuck was she but I mean ye had to put these questions, cause that’s what they were gony do, nothing surer, like if something bad had happened man ye had to start asking yerself, ye had to start, make a start at it, ye had to man, these questions, ye had to, ye had to put them, if like she was dead or something if somebody had done her in man ye had to say it. Get it out. Ye had to: if some, if some guy, some guy man if some guy fucking, if some bastard had so much as touched a hair on her head man, one fucking hair on her head man that’s all, that’s all it would fucking take, so much as touched one hair on that lassie’s head man
Ye see it from their point of view but the polis christ almighty ye’ve got to help them out; ye’ve got to, it’s a fucking
when it’s something like that man a disappearance, suspicious circumstances, what do ye do? a fucking
The bastard blankets, itchy as fuck on his neck and chin, stupit whiskers; he was gony shave, fucking beard fucking hippy bastard that was coming right off; first thing; as soon as.
Ye see it from their point of view but. Plus the form he had. Staying
with her and all that, the bad row.
These bastards. And they could pick out anything they wanted. See when ye thought about it. Even staying in the house; he had nay right, nay right at all; they could charge him with that man illegal entry, if they wanted. Any fucking thing.
Aw christ he was tired. How the hell could he no just drop off! just fucking drop off. It was his back, it was sore, he couldnay lie on his front cause of the bracelets and he couldnay get comfy he just couldnay get fucking comfy, know what I’m talking about fucking comfy, comfy fucking comfy he was fucking fuckt man he was fuckt, that’s what he was, fuckt, fucking bastarn good night, good fucking night, if he could sleep, if he could just sleep; but how the fuck can ye sleep if ye cannay get comfy? It’s a straight question. Fucking pong as well, the phantom fucking farter man he was at it again.
The guy was pacing. It was irritating behaviour. The feet sounds kept getting nearer then away and then back again and Sammy’s head got filled with it, his brains working in terms of it, so just about every memory he had connected with it, this fucking feetsteps, getting affected, and it done yer head man it done yer fucking head
What was it like at all! Maybe if he had been able to see. But he’s fucking lying there in this fucking blindness, this fucking utter black fucking…fuck knows what, fucking limboland.
Heh gony sit on yer arse…
Eh?
I said gony sit on yer arse, I’m trying to kip.
The guy did what he was told. Probably he was a grass anyway the cunt. Sammy turned onto his side and tugged up the blanket. But what seemed like less than ten minutes later some bastard had him by the shoulder and he was having to drag himself up then getting marched out, trying to hold onto his fucking trousers, the trainers still lying under the stupit fucking bunk.
Ye’ve got a cupboard full of dress-shirts. Still in their cellophane wrappers.
I bought them.
Ye bought them!
They’re all different sizes.
We know they’re all different sizes Sammy.
Somebody else in the room started laughing.
I bought them cheap.
That’s a surprise.
Cause I thought I could punt them.
So where did ye buy them?
A couple of weeks ago.
…
Off a guy in a pub; he got them at a fire-salvage auction; that’s what he telt me anyway.
Did ye believe him?
Well I mean I had nay reason to doubt him.
What were the grounds?
Eh…?
If you had no reason to doubt him Mister Samuels, what were your grounds?
He had an accent.
Oh he had an accent did he?
He sounded like a posh foreign businessman.
Well well.
Naw honest, that’s what stuck in my mind about him; at first I thought he was a kind of high-class English guy but I think he was something else, maybe he came from Europe for some kind of foreign businesses convention.
This is crap.
…
Ye fucking blagged them Sammy.
I didnay.
Fine, ye’re getting done for reset.
Okay I mean ye’ve got to do what ye’ve got to do, but I thought the guy was brand new; he just looked out the game, as if he had taken a beating for a few quid. I was quite happy to take them off his hands. The way I read it he was trying to work up his fare back home, where it was he was going, home I mean, his own country. It was just a deal, two guys in a pub.
You’re a loose end Mister Samuels; and getting looser.
…
Understand me?
What?
There was the sound of somebody blowing his nose and then a door opening and closing, and then a hand clasped him on the shoulder; the guy was so close Sammy smelled his breath and it was drink, like vodka or something.
I want to get serious… It was the English guy again, speaking in this quiet voice. Sammy couldnay quite pick up the accent but it was regional from somewhere… So just listen to my colleague when he’s talking and do your best to get to grips with it; if you have difficulty let us know, we’re here to help.
Yeh Sammy, see we were under the impression ye were a bit higher class than this. Speaking personally, I thought ye were a guy down on his luck, but ye were fighting back; three years on the straight and narrow, trying yer best, sorting yerself out, doing yer Work Provision, getting in tow with a nice woman; I dont know if ye’ve got an alcohol problem, our colleagues say ye have, but I dont see it, speaking personally – but if ye have maybe ye’re beating it, if so hats-off-to-ye. Now we find ye’re dealing in reset – petty stuff by the way, for an ex-hotshot like yerself – but that’s us, we’re in the fact-finding business and if that’s the fact we find then we’ve got to accept it. Even so, a bit of this and a bit of that, ye can understand it; I can understand it, making up the giro and all that I mean who’s gony worry about a few leather jackets. The thing is but, what ye’re involved in the now, it’s serious; and I’ll be honest with ye, I dont know how come ye’re hiding the cunt ye’re hiding. Naybody likes a grass, I appreciate that; but this guy’s something else.
What guy?
Whatever guy ye like – Billy, Tam – it doesnay matter. Just so ye know this is a serious investigation; that’s how me and my colleague are here. But ye knew that anyway didnt ye?
Sammy nodded.
What did he talk about?
Just general stuff.
Aye?
Football, that kind of thing.
Well maybe we arenay talking about the same guy after all ye see because I meet these cunts and they dont talk about football, they dont talk about racing, nothing like that, it’s all politics; then they get angry, they get angry and they get bitter; that’s what ye find Sammy they get angry and they get bitter and what happens they start talking about other things they talk about violence and they talk about acts of terrorism I mean come on now ye must have met guys like that when ye were doing time. Eh?
Aye, once or twice?
Good, fine. Heh by the way there’s something else, maybe ye havenay noticed – have ye noticed?
What?
The clerical officer’s away for his teabreak. Naybody’s working the computer. We’re putting this off the record.
Sammy nodded. I know ye’re wanting me to tell ye something and I wish to christ I could; maybe I was drunker than I thought but honest, I just cannay remember; the guys I’m talking about, all I can mind is them talking about football and that, just I mean the usual.
The thing is Sammy we know that’s no true.
…
See we know that if that’s what ye’re saying then ye’re telling lies.
I’m no.
Well aye, I’m afraid ye are; I’ve got to say it now ye see ye’re a fucking liar, ye know, that’s what ye are Sammy a fucking liar.
Sorry mate but I cannay help who I meet.
What was that?
I’m saying I cannay help who I meet.
Ah well there ye have the problem, because for me and my colleague even that’s beginning to sound doubtful. Ye understand what I’m saying?
…
Now that’s something to think about int it?
Perhaps he hasnt got the gist of what you said.
Aw I think he has: eh Sammy?
…
Silence was the answer. Maybe if he had his socks off that would help. Take off yer socks Sammy.
Sammy waited a moment then did as he was told; he was about to shove them in his pocket but they were taken out his hand.
That’s right son, just you throw them over there out the road.
Sammy heard footsteps then other footsteps and there was some muttering went on. Then somebody approached him, and the serjeant said: Okay son check his feet for evidence, concealed weapons; things like that.
Blisters on his heels, corns or bunions on the big toe and the wee toe, both feet. They’re clea
n. Wee bits of fluffy wool.
Christ that boy’s gony make a grade one detective. Give us a look… Yeh, just as I thought: add to the form-book that these feet are not just clean they’re unusually clean; and the toes are red. Funny that int it, red toes. Consistent mind you.
They’re what one might call angry-looking.
Angry-looking. Yeh.
On the other hand, what do we mean when we speak about toes as angry-looking?
They’re red and purplish.
That sounds more like a penis.
Sammy stayed still, his wrists resting on his thighs; he listened to them laughing. One of them sounded quite close to the back of his head and he had to stop himself ducking, it would just have intimidated them. They carried on talking nonsense and his attention went from what they were saying to how they fucking said it, cause he was expecting a blow at any time. It was alright. He felt that; it was okay, he wasnay worried; it was just the way when it landed he wouldnay be prepared; but there was nothing ye could do; and if ye cannay do nothing then dont fucking worry about it.
More laughing.
Then the socks landed on his lap.
I hope we checked the customer’s socks for holes gentlemen! I dont want complaints going in against the department in regard to irregular treatment of the customer’s property. This chap has an appointment with a professionally qualified medical person on Monday morning.
…
Somebody’s talking to ye Sammy, ye’re hell of a bad mannered.
Is that a fact.
Ho ho, getting bolder by the minute, given we keep catching him out on lies and petty deceits. He said he saw a doctor yesterday morning but he didnt, he didnt see a doctor at all, he saw a receptionist.
Is that true Sammy?
I made an appointment with the doctor for Monday morning.
Somebody sighed. Now there was movement towards him. A finger touched him on the cheekbone and he jerked his head back.
No ssh. Ssh, relax. Serjeant, see this a minute…
The finger was back on his cheekbone and pressing.
What…?
It’s peculiar you know but I cant see a thing wrong with this chap’s eyes. Can you?
